LBD
by The Wise Duck
Summary: In accordance with the current Little Black Dress contest going on over at DeviantART, I couldn’t resist throwing together this little ditty.


Kim Possible and all the characters contained within are the sole property of Disney.

The situations and contents of this story are mine and are intended solely as recreational and for the enjoyment of myself and other fans.

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A young innocent freshman (or freshwoman for you p.c. type people) was little Dorothy. That, and being a mid-semester transfer to Middleton high had almost permanently fixated her eyes at owl stage. Not only was Middleton such an absolutely _wonderful _place (gush gush) after spending her 'formative years' in the back pocket of a smoking, choking left-handed widget factory, but _'HERE THERE BE CELEBRITIES'!_

And better yet, (giggle) she got to go to the same school as they did for the celebrities were—

RON STOPPABLE (melt) and his girlfriend Kim.

Dorothy sighed, batting her eyelashes at an imaginary vision (out of focus because she had broken her glasses the night before and they were only partially fixed with a Band-Aid) of Ron. She had heard so much about him and now she had actually seen him with her own slightly myopic eyes. She knew that he was taken, but no one could take her dreams gosh darn it!

So she had a light skip to her step as she bounced into the perimeter of Middleton high that spring morning. She was way early as she had volunteered to feed the animals in the biology sections, another wonder to her as they weren't the rats and roaches she use to wrestle with over her morning breakfast (she had usually lost two falls out of three and when she did win, they double teamed her anyway). These were bunny-wunnies, turtlelie-woortleies, frogie-worgies (getting ill yet?) and she just aaddooRREEDDDDD THEM!

She felt so happy about it she could just SKIP—

And trip, _slide,_ STUMBLE, ttwwiisstt, BACKPEDDLE—!

Her back went flat into the wall of the building she was next too. Dorothy's eyes now doing a slightly reasonable imitation of trashcan lids (30 gallon size), her stomach was doing a more than reasonable imitation of that wild, crazy, ball thingy from the Harry Potter movies and her breath was held (as was several other body parts) in fear that took a long moment to pass before she allowed herself to give out a sigh of relief.

Her ears then perked up. She glanced up. She was next to a slightly open window and she could hear a voice. Who else was here this early?

Up on tip-toe, she could barely see but it came all too clear to her. She saw the top of a female head and Dorothy knew of only one female in Middleton High that had the thick, luxurious red hair that she could only glimpse. Glancing to her left and right, Dorothy realized that she was on the side of the gym building and that Kim Possible must be in the office doing one of her many tasks. Maybe—

Dorothy's over fertile imagination reacted as if a pound of fertilizer had been thrown on it and the sprinklers turned on. Maybe Possible was talking to someone about some high government secrets or a mission? Maybe she was talking on that . . . . talky thing of hers to some movie star or rock idol about some gllaaammmorous favor she was going to do for them. Dorothy glanced about her again. The door was right there—

She got her 'I give my heart to Legolas forever' fake mithril wrist bracelet caught on a loose metal flange of the door. If she pulled against it, it bit into her skin, and the very thought of damaging the band itself and the vow she had made when she put it on—

But her head was in the door and she could _hear_ Possible—

"Definitely. We've had this long planned and I'm gonna go all out . . . . . oh yeah, he knows what's coming I think but—"

It did sound to Dorothy like Possible was talking on the phone to someone. But what was she talking about? She heard Possible chuckle then, "yeah, the LBD will hit him hard and take him down. And I will be right on top of him for the full follow-through. He wont have a chance."

The flange bit into her wrist and Dorothy jerked against the door, rattling the whole thing. In a moment, Possible was there, in the hall, in front of her, in her Middleton Mad Dogs cheerleading uniform but ready in a fighting stance. Then Possible blinked in surprise as she saw Dorothy's predicament—

"Help me," was all the frightened girl could squeak.

With a _very_ disgusted look on her face, Possible stepped up to Dorothy, grabbed the edge post of the door to which the young girl was affixed, and muttered, "not quite the type of jamb that I'm use to getting people out of."

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It was during the nutrition break after second period. Dorothy was massaging the sore spot on her wrist, lamenting the small but oh so significant nick in her oh so pprrreeeeciouuuss bracelet, sitting alone in a breezeway in front of freshly flowing Orlando's and Lotus, studying the notes from her last class, when a figure abruptly came to a stop in front of her. Dorothy looked up to see a girl; she had to be a senior, with stringy shoulder length brown hair, also in a cheerleader uniform, watching at her with what had to be a measured look. Not wanting to give an inch, Dorothy glared back at the girl. But the senior apparently didn't like the reflection of this, her face now forming into a stony look. Dorothy rocked back in reaction; trying to mentally gather her eggs in one basket only to have the senior suddenly loom up over her, scrambling any hope—

"What do you want?" Dorothy whined as if fearing a physical blow.

The senior gave Dorothy a smile that would fit better on a Great White Shark. "I really don't mean to bother you," the senior said with a tone that was a good imitation of at least six fake nails being drawn with great, deliberate purpose across a chalkboard, "but I understand that you and Little Mis—Kim Possible were seen coming out of the gym really early this morning. I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay and ask what you were doing with . . ." and there seemed to be a momentary struggle for the seniors mouth to say something else before she finally said, "Kim."

A wary look came to Dorothy's face. She had heard about High School, about the rivalries, the clicks, the—the—gatfights (Batfights? Fatfights? Hatfights? Sigh).

"Why should I tell you anything?" Dorothy said carefully knowing that she should be firm and stand her ground, do what's right.

The senior drew back and examined what appeared to be her impeccably manicured nails. "Because I just happen to be the president of the most exclusive girls club in Middleton High," and then the girls eyes came up to pierce Dorothy with a look so sly that she was struck with a vision of a rock with a sign on it saying 'family' (and if you don't get that one, don't worry, it's for us old guys), saying, "so it's my obligation to know what's going on with all the really socially important people here at Middleton."

The senior then hunched down and practically put her nose into Dorothy's saying sweetly, "if you'd like to be in and among the really socially important people here at Middleton, I can make that happen. It's just a matter of your helping me with some information, and I'll give a BIG helping of something else to you."

Dorothy blinked frantically, trying to focus her eyes, knitting her brow as she ferociously thought (and dropping a stitch as she did so).

Then the senior smiled a smile that would have caused immediate diabetes in any red-blooded male, "whatdayasay?"

"But," blurted Dorothy, "I don't even know what a LBD is?"

Bonnie Rockwaller's eyes assumed the size of trashcan lids (55 gallon).

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Lunchtime. And Ron Stoppable was a whirlwind of activity. With the big event only hours away, he had a quatazillon things to take care of so there could be no possible possibility of a possible interruption. So he was coordinating things with Wade, doing his Middleton Mad Dog's assistant stuff, taking care of a couple of quick tasks that Kim had asked him to handle for her—

"Hey, Stoppable." Ron jerked his head around; it was Casa ExplodingStar from his Health Ed class. Casa had what could only be described as a 'leer' on his face that would have done a certain Transylvanian Count proud. His classmate, with a flourish, tossed Ron a single red rose, (which Ron caught, piercing three fingers and one palm on seven thorns) as he said, "do us proud."

Ron's jaw dropped as far as his collarbone and his eyes would have bugged if not for the fact that they were clenched in pain from impaled fingers.

Rufus poked his head out of Ron's pocket as the implement of botanical destruction was gingerly removed.

"What was THAT all about?" Ron wondered aloud.

Rufus shrugged.

"Ronnie!"

Again the head snapped around to see this time, "Monty?"

Yes, the English exchange student with his pet snake wrapped around his neck. Rufus squealed and did a full gainer with a one ½ twist back into the depths of Ron's pocket.

Like a greased otter on a oily pond, the flashy dressed flashman was instantly up hip to hip with Ron, arm wrapped around Ron's neck like a octopus with a really bad case of crustecean munchies.

"What's this I hear? What's this I hear? Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink."

"Wha—what are you—"

"Ah common mate. Don't try ta play a player. She a goer? Eh, Know what I mean, know what I mean? Nudge, Nudge, know what I mean."

"WHAT ARE YOU TAKING ABOUT?"

"Oh," shouted Monty as he released Ron to spin away down the hall, "say no more, say no more."

Ron had been left spinning and came to a slow spiral down onto weak knees, as his eyeballs seemed to continue to rotate inside of his head. He had to reach up and grab his head with both hands to try and steady it. Rufus, practically ejected from his pocket by the centrifugal force, plopped out in a landing on the floor in front of him, shook his own head to clear it, then looked up at Ron with an expression of a very confused and perturbed mole rat.

"Hey Possible," Ron couldn't jerk his head around. Fortunately the voice was right in front of him. It was Brick Flagg, _visiting from Upperton U?_

"I had to come by," the jock said with a real big smirk on his face, "to tell you have fun when you score." Then, with a wave of his hand, Brick turned and headed back down the hall.

"AAARRRGGGGG" announced Ron to a good portion of C Hall with a great deal of volume accompanied by rather rapid bird like movement of both his arms as if trying to take wing, "WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON?"

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Across the school, Kim Possible sat at one of the main lunch tables in the senior eating area—

But she wasn't eating.

"Kim?" Monique hissed. "If your nose gets any lower and closer to your tray, that chicken bone is going to become a nose accessory."

"But why is EVERYONE staring at me?" came the terse, whispered reply.

"I don't know," her friend replied. Did you get caught telling a reporter that you pick your nose again?"

Deadly emerald eyes swiveled up. "Keep that up and you wont be able to pick your—"

Monique however ignored her and started to make various existential depictions in her mashed potatoes, most of which could not be repeated in a story with this rating.

"Unless I miss my guess," Monique continued with all the assurance of the only cat in the mouse hole, "I would say that the rummil is run ramp and that would mean that B is trickin up so you best WYB cause she's gotta be planning CYWYNL."

Kim gave Monique 'the look' and grated. "English please."

Monique looked heavenward as if seeking strength to deal with lesser mortals who Did Not Understand before saying VERY SLOWLY, "unless I miss my guess, I would say that the rumor mill in running rampant and that would mean that Bonnie is up to some major trick that has gotten out so you better Watch Your Back because she is going to be planning to Catch You When Your Not Looking."

Kim raised one very disgusted eyebrow and grunted, "why couldn't you just say it that way in the first place?"

Monique just shrugged. "Took eighteen more words and didn't sound anywhere near as cool. Anyway, why don't you go and make like a 60's rock star and twist and shout and get all sweaty doing the cheerleading thing and I will see what I can do to find out just what rock Ms. Rockwaller is walling from under this time."

"Thanks Monique. You Rock!"

"Yeah, but I don't Waller."

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Bonnie hung up her cellphone, looking down at Dorothy who looked back up at her like a crossed-eyed lost puppy. _She's gonna give **me** a headache looking at me that way before long._ Bonnie thought.

Bonnie broke eye contact and rubbed the palms of her hands together in anticipation. "With that call," she said loftily, "the plan is set. Now we just have to be in position to watch the outcome."

Dorothy frowned. "I still don't think that this sounds very nice.

"Ah," Bonnie said giving the girl a very fake sincere look, "that's because you and Toto are not in Kansas any more dear Dorothy. We're doing this for Kim Possible's own good, removing the taint and stigma that can accompany someone who is associated with the LBD."

_And laughing our ass off at the same time_ was the finish to herself. She then looked back down to Dorothy who was looking at her as if Bonnie had sprouted wings, the tailfins of a 57 Chevy and an 'To Let" sign on her forehead.

"What?" Bonnie cried in annoyance.

"How'd you know my brothers name was Tony Tomay Gale?"

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Doctor James Timothy Possible would like to say that when he was within forty-eight hours of a big launch that he had a million things to do. But the problem was that he knew that he had precisely seven hundred, forty-three major items to do, four hundred, twenty-eight which he could delegate to his assistants. That left him with three hundred and fifteen of which he could deal with ten to twelve at any given time—

It made for long but exciting hours.

It also prohibited visitors not essential to the task at hand—

But when that person demanded an immediate audience—

And when that person was perhaps one of the leading ladies of the arts and social scene in the Tri-Cities area—

And when the Space Center Administrator reminder Dr. Possible that this Leading Lady had paid for the new Space Medicine Research Wing two year prior—

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice when you are soooo busy Professor Possible."

"Ah, Doctor Possible, please."

"Oh of course, I'm soooo sorry."

"That's quite all right. Have a seat."

"Thank you, you are too kind."

"Ahhh . . . . gee . . . uummmm . . . . "

"Please Administrator Possible, there is no need—"

"Doctor Possible if you please, and I am so sorry that I don't have any wider chairs. Can I call for a bench? Or we can go up to my main office where there's a sofa—"

"I said there is no need Supervisor Possible ("Doctor Possible please") and I mean it. I am perfectly capable of standing and I do not expect to be here for long. I wish to discuss your daughter Kimberly."

"My daughter. What about her?"

"I do not know if you are aware, Scientist Possible ("Ahem DOCTOR Possible"), but I am the primary sponsor of the Middleton Festival. You do know what that is do you not Regen—

"DOCTOR! IT's DOCtor . . . . . if you please. Please. Oh please."

"Oh, soooo sorry."

"Anyway, yes, I am very familiar with the festival. I have taken my family to it for years."

"And you are aware of what happened there the year before last, involving your daughter?"

"Oh yeahhhhhh. The Moodulator thing. Is there a problem? I thought that was taken care of long ago."

"Yes, there was a problem and it was only associated to those decedent devices in a offhand way. It caused as big an uproar as the disruption of the parade itself and it is my belief that it had many more long lasting effects of the most disreputable kind."

"Just . . . . . . . what in the world are you talking about because I don't have a clue."

"Sir! I am talking about the moral and social chaos caused by your daughters. . . . . by all that's holy I almost can't say it but I must . . . . her . . . LBD."

"Her LBD? My daughter has an LBD? I didn't know that my daughter had an LBD. What kind of LBD? I've got over a dozen LBD's, is hers anything like mine?"

"WHAT! Do you mean to say MISTER Possible that you have a—

"Sure, the ForeverandeverEver Project has a Launch Booster Designator. Our trouble plagued Outward Observation Probe Satellite has a Lost Background Decoder. We've got bunches of LBD's. Even Doctor Eisner has his own LBD."

"And just **_WHAT_** is Doctor Eisner's?

"Liquorish, Buffalo & Dressing sandwich. His wife makes them special for him. But frankly, I wouldn't recommend them."

"DOCTOR Possible! That is not the LBD that I am referring too. I am talking about and referring about the—the . . . item, the . . article of clothing that your daughter was wearing on the night of the incident at the festival."

"Oh, you mean her Little Black Dress—"

"YESSSSSSS!"

"Jeeeesssss, you don't have to shout ma'am."

"You should have seen the young men and boys, following her around just out of her sphere of awareness, although you can not tell me that she was not fully aware of just what it was that she was doing. It was a disgusting display—"

"I think this is enough ma'am. You have no right or place to comment on my daughter, her style of clothing, or her lifestyle in anyway. I believe it is time for you to leave. I don't know why you would come to me after all this time has passed anyway."

"Because SIR, I received an anonymous phone call tonight that your daughter had been bragging at school today that she would be wearing that horrid shroud of shame tonight with the express purpose of going out with her boyfriend to commit illegal and immoral acts. And as I have a convention of international church groups in the fairgrounds tonight—"

"What a minute, my daughter has told me nothing about going out tonight. Her mother is out of town at a surgical convention and Kim hasn't called to say that any missions have come up."

"Do you really think SIR that she is going to really tell her FATHER when she intends to go out and commit immoral acts?"

" . . . . . . . . . "

"Well DO you Doctor?"

"I think you really better leave ma'am."

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"I'm hungry, my bottom hurts, this is soooo boring."

Bonnie was about to amuse her own self by seeing if she could cause the freshman's girls eyes to go straight by THROTTLING her for her whining when with a roar and a screech, she heard a car hit the block down the street.

She and Dorothy where in the bushes across from the Possible house where she at least hoped they would be able to hear the shouting match between Little Kimmie and her father.

Bonnie's face split with a grin as daddy Possible's car roared up and into the driveway. He jumped out, and rapidly begin to pace about it as if psyching himself up for the confrontation. He turned and seemed ready to literally charge the door when—

A ripping buzz came zipping up the block and along came Ron, on his scooter

_Oh God!_ thought Bonnie, _the ultimate confrontation. All of them together!_

But something was wrong and it wasn't until Ron actually pulled into the driveway that Bonnie realized—

_He's not dressed to go out and . . . . . . he's wearing workout gear!_

"Ron!" shouted Dr Possible, angry and confused at the same time.

"Hi there Mr. Dr. P." was Ron's reply with a jaunty wave.

More confusion blossomed across the man's face and he started to open his mouth to say something when the front door to the Possible residence opened—

Out bounced Kim Possible, fully outfitted in her martial arts gi with her black belt, hair wrestled up in a tight bun, backpack over one shoulder, "hi daddy, what are you doing home? Are you on a launch break?"

Now confusion rained like a flood from Niagara Falls all over Mr. Possible as he looked between the two teens. "What—" was all he could manage.

"Daddy," Kim admonished, giving him 'the look' with dipped head and frowning eyes, "I told you weeks ago that we had this three day tournament in the UK. Did you forget?"

His eyes sliding back and forth between then like the ball on a tennis court, "ah, yeah, I guess—"

"NNNOOOOOOO!" screamed a voice (sounding very much like a hand organ dieing a righteous death) and there was Bonnie, covered in leaves and twigs, practically dragging a girl who looked like something out of a bad Tim Burton movie.

"This is not right. She hear what was said. It COULDN'T have anything to do with any STUPID martial STUPID arts WHATEVER!"

Bonnie had now reached the base of the Possible driveway, half of her mind on the unbelievable possibility that she had been soooo wrong (and refusing to believe it because if it was, and it got back to school, she was going to be SOOOOOO DEAD), the other half of her trying with all her might to hold onto the scrambling, squirming Dorothy who had decided that she wanted to be like a pair of bad pantyhose and RUN!

Bonnie managed to get her head around and see—

That Kim's dad was looking at her with all the trust and belief of someone asking the alligator who had just bit their arm off to give it back because they knew it really didn't mean it told her that if she didn't do something RIGHT NOW to salvage the situation—but what?

They, Bonnie realized, _Possible and Stoppable must of heard rumors around school. They were prepared for this. They're trying to fool her dad and make a fool out of me. I'll bet they've got their party clothes on under these work out suits and I'll prove it RIGHT NOW!_

And with that Bonnie turned, lunged at Ron—

Who, the next moment, was standing there with his eyes the size of trashcans lids (industrial bins, 250 gallon) because his workout pants were puddled around his ankles and his boxers were blowing in the breeze.

"Bonnie," screamed Kim, "are you crazy?"

"I—I" was all Bonnie could manage, gazing at Ron's hairy knees in horror.

"Ms. Rockwaller?" came the quiet but still thunderous voice of Kim's father. "Considering your words and actions just now as well as a rather interesting earlier conversation I had with a Lady who received a strange, anonymous phone call, I think that an explanation is in order."

Bonnie swiveled her torso around to point BOTH hands at Dorothy screaming, "but she heard her. She heard Kim talking to someone on the phone. She heard YOUR daughter say that 'the LBD will hit him hard and take him down'. She HEARD that."

A neutral look now came to the adults face. He seemed torn for a moment, as if unsure, as if unwilling, to confront this possibility. Then—

"Dear," Dr. Possible said with an exceeding gentle voice, looking directly at Dorothy, "just where were you and what did you hear?"

As the young girl spoke, explaining in detail, exactly what had happened, new and darker looks and feelings came over Dr Possible's face. Neither his daughter or her boyfriend turned their heads but they were watching him with sidelong glances, holding their breaths as they did so.

When Dorothy finished, Dr Possible took a long slow breath. He then looked to Ron (who had manage to pull his pants back up), then turned a long measuring look to his oldest child, who seemed to wilt under the gaze until she had to say—

"Daddy?"

"I see," Mr. Possible said with slow reluctance, "no reason to disbelieve this young girl Kimberly. Can you offer some kind of explanation for your words other than what they seem to mean?"

Kim dropped her head, took a long slow sigh, then, snapping her head up, said, "if you insist. Ron."

The other three present blinked in surprise as Ron and Kim both suddenly moved over to the front lawn and squared off opposite each other. They then bowed (Rufus who popped out of Ron's pocket, had taken up station as referee between the two of them and was directing their actions) and took their fighting stances. Her dad had time to say, "Kim what—" before the two of them were tangled in a ball of flying arms/legs/bodies that lasted no more than thirty seconds when Ron with an "OOFFFFF!" was thrown down on his stomach, Kim holding his arms behind him in some of complicated hold. She then pounced down on top of him, tying him up further as he started to slap one foot on the ground in indication of surrender.

"What are you DOING!" screamed Bonnie.

Kim got her feet under her, coming back partially up onto them, still maintaining the hold on Ron's arms. "It's called a Lateral Bicep Destention. Now, some schools call it a 'grip' some call it a 'twist', others call it a 'hold'. So, since no one can make up their minds as to the exact type of move it is, it just goes by the LBD designation in competition and it is always followed by coming down," and once again she dropped back down on top of Ron (who was now kicking frantically, gritting his teeth, sweating profusely, turning a nice shade of bright red and generally looking uncomfortable), "on top of him for the full follow-through." and Kim locked the hold up again. She then grinned at her father. "They don't have a chance." Ron then 'humped' his whole body up into Kim finally causing her to look down—

"Oh RON!" as she released him at once.

"Ooooohhhhhhhh, sick and WRONG!" deflated her boyfriend as Kim wrapped herself around his shoulders to try to make up for what she had done.

Mr. Possible had a smile on his face. He looked to Bonnie who had a look of disbelieving hatred on hers. Little Dorothy looked just confused and lost.

"I think," Mr. Possible said to the young girl, "that you better be getting home."

"Yeah," Dorothy nodded. "There's no place like home." And with a smile and a wave, she walked down the drive and away.

Mr. Possible then looked to Bonnie, "Ms. Rockwaller?"

Steam was visibly coming out of her ears. "This is bull and you know it!"

A perplex look came across Dr. Possible's face and it took him a moment to say, "no, the only bull I know of is in the Limburger, Bull and Dijon sandwiches that Dr Esiner has."

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Ron, dressed in the maroon open collared shirt and charcoal slacks that Monique had picked out for him, lay the matching tie and jacket across the back of one of the cushy chairs of the expensive London suite paid for them by one of their past clients in the 'We Can Do Anything' business. He looked over to Rufus who was watching something on the full wall screen TV, almost wishing that he was sitting with him.

He was nervous. But is was a good nervous, a happy, anticipatory one. One that he had been looking forward to for a long time.

"I didn't get a chance," called a female voice that he loved from upstairs, "to congratulate you on your medal."

Ron smiled and absently rubbed a very sore shoulder. "Yeah," he called back loudly so that she could hear him way back there in the two-story, split-level suite. "I'm happy with the bronze. But you, you pulled that LBD just right on the German guy and took him down. You're going to the Masters finals."

"I know," she called. "But that's the day after tomorrow. So we have tonight and all day tomorrow to play."

"And," and there was a sudden change in tone and sound of her voice telling him that she was now in the room with him. Ron's head snapped around even as she said, "I intend to play."

Kim was already halfway down the stairs, but she was all the way around, in, and through Ron Stoppable. His ultimate dream, live before him. She had turned herself to the side so that her profile, her tiny waist, her tight body, her hard yet feminine arms, and her athletic, coltish legs that just seemed to go on forever thanks to—

The Little Black Dress that she was just _poured_ into. Her long, thick hair, flowing like a wave down to her waist filled the entire world behind her. Black platform spike heels hooker shoes did not detract from anything because _nothing_ could tear his eyes away from the vision in front of him.

She turned and started to come the rest of the way down, strutting her stuff as she did so. Rufus accidentally turned and looked (industrial containers, 600 gallons).

Ron had of course stopped breathing. He did not think he would ever start again.

She swished up to him, giving him just the tiniest of a puppy dog pout. "Well?"

Ron found that he had to force himself to breathe in order to talk. "Worth having to lie to your dad about the LBD thing."

Kim gave him the eye. "We did no such thing. We were coming to this tournament, we made our plans when we knew that we were because we knew that we would have all this time to ourselves between the matches on the first day and the third day to do what we want, the way we want, slowly," and she reached out, putting one hand on one shoulder, "gently," other hand onto the other shoulder, "and in complete privacy without any worries about our parents or anybody else we know accidentally seeing us in an . . . . . uncomfortable position." And with that she pulled the two of them together of a very passionate kiss.

When they came apart, "Sure," she continued, "it took me a lot of thought to come up with a workable acronym to match LBD, but we didn't _lie_ because it was all the truth. It was just made up to fit the situation on the spur of the moment."

Ron snorted. "Well, it's a good thing Monique was able to figure it out."

Now Kim snorted. "I guess it wasn't hard. Seems that we were about the only ones in school that didn't know about it."

An evil grin spread across Ron's face. "Ah, but we did know about it. In fact, it was our idea," and he attempted to gather her further into his arms.

"Ah, ah," she cautioned, her hands now on his shoulders restraining him. "Don't want to damage the LBD good sir. It has dinner and a dance club to survive first." She then took advantage of the additional height of the platform shoes to come in and nip Ron on the nose with her teeth.

"However sir," Kim pulled to her love, "afterwards, when we get back here, when we get upstairs, on the advent of our first experience together, for which we have waited so long, I expect the LBD to suffer a great deal of damage at your hands."

Ron's grin continued to be evil. "You know Kim, I think that LBD is turning you into a Bad Girl."

She 'snapped' her teeth again right in front of his nose and whispered, "it has, and it better turn you into a Bad Boy."

And Kim Possible's eyes flew wide as Ron Stoppable's hands squeezed something very firmly as he said—

"It has."

They both chucked, looked at each other, and said together, "blame the LBD."

As Ron swept his coat and tie off the chair, they, with hips locked and arms entwined, made their way out into the London night—

Leaving on the floor behind them, next to the couch in front of the wall TV, a certain mole rat comatose from hypertension and heat exhaustion.

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A/N

I caught on earlier this week on the LBD thing over a DeviantART, allegedly started by SFtoon with 'Ron's Dream Date' (of which the vision of Kim in this story is based on), and then picked up by Levelord with his 'Bad Girl' series and then carried along by everybody else. If I could draw a decent human figure I would join in although my taste might lend itself to the more deviant sections like the stuff like Ivymae 457 (I have this 3-panel vision of Rufus, one of him normally in the LBD, one of him in it with a figure like Kim, then the final with him, bent over, bruised and swollen, huffing and puffing, holding the corset that let him attain that figure).

Hope everyone enjoys my little take on the LBD and any apologies required are given regarding Bad Girl, Bad Boy (Captainkodak1, Lionheart, Levelord and anyone else that I'm not aware of.

Good Writing All

The Wise Duck


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